


Satiation

by appalachian_fireflies



Category: Original Work
Genre: (front hole sex actually but w/e), Anal Sex, But entirely consensual, Consensual Non-Consent, First Time, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, potentially dysphoria inducing ymmv, sexist slurs and dysphoria for erotic humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appalachian_fireflies/pseuds/appalachian_fireflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris, a trans guy, has always hidden his body out of fear and shame.  When he visits his hometown and a man takes interest in him, he decides to finally go for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satiation

**Author's Note:**

> This story is potentially dysphoria inducing and uses dysphoria for erotic humiliation. Please heed the tags. All of the sex is explicitly consensual, though it rides that line hard (oh baby).

Chris wiped the bar down every night at midnight when they closed, and every night the man in the corner waited until Chris kicked him out. He was burly, a logger like most of the men in the town, and stood a good foot taller than Chris. The man'd order his beer, greet his friends, then read patiently until Chris came over.

Every night, he’d look up at Chris suggestively, tease him, and Chris would laugh nervously, looking away. Turning down the man’s offer. He’d leave, and Chris would lock the door, hard and wet, hand shaking a little. 

Chris had come back to his hometown in Oregon to take care of his dad, look after his bar while he was recovering from surgery. He did it despite the fact that his dad hadn’t been there for his own surgery, had refused to visit him in Seattle after he’d gone on T years ago. 

It was weird, being here again, where people like him were unheard of. He’d gotten so used to being accepted as a man, and he tried not to let it bother him when Barbara from next door gaped at his stubble while he bagged apples. Everyone needed to calm the hell down. 

Tonight, the man approached the bar while he was cleaning, and sat down on a stool. 

“Taking care of your dad, huh?” he prompted. 

Chris smiled at him. “Yeah, for now. He’ll be running this place again soon.” The bar started to shine with the citrus smelling cleaner.

“Huh,” the man said. “My name’s Roger.” He extended a hand. 

“Chris,” he offered back, shaking it. 

“Closing time,” Roger noted. 

“Yeah,” Chris replied awkwardly. 

“Want me to go?” Roger offered. Chris’ heart beat fast. Roger looked like he could bend Chris over the bar, hold him down. There’d be no one to hear him at this hour, he doubted his dad would wake up with all the drugs he was on-

“No,” Chris said, nerves fluttering. “Stay.” 

Roger smiled. “Ok,” he said, dropping his voice. Chris shivered, and grabbed a beer, sitting down next to him. 

Roger’s hand gravitated toward Chris’ knee while they talked, then slid slowly up his thigh, inch by inch. Chris was wet, ready, the alcohol loosening him up, giving him the courage to accept the man’s advances. He needed this, goddamnit. 

Before going on T and having top surgery, Chris had been repulsed by the thought of sleeping with men. Of being fucked like a woman, some asshole proving to him what he "really was." He’d had sex with women, eating them out with devotion while they moaned, fucking them with his strap on dick, not letting them touch him back. He'd liked women, and he still did. Women were beautiful, soft, and on the whole a hell of a lot better than men to spend time with. 

But then the hormones had hit his system, and he was hard, wet, and ready 24/7. His front hole, which he’d hated and ignored in equal measure, ached constantly, demanding to make itself known. He dreamed of being fucked, woke up aching and wet. Jerked himself off over and over, still feeling empty. 

A year ago, he’d finally caved and bought a dildo, shuddering at the odd, nausea-inducing sensation of being penetrated, groaning when it finally opened him the way he’d needed for years, clenching around it when he came. He’d laid there, sated and warm, and fallen asleep after one orgasm. 

The next morning, he’d panicked, overwhelmed by the truth he couldn’t ignore. Didn’t stop the fantasies though, the constant, aching need. He was a goddamn slut for dick. He slept with three very enthusiastic, very happy women in a month. He still hadn’t slept with any men. 

Roger’s fingers stroked Chris’ sensitive inner thigh, his voice low and soothing, gentling. Chris’ breathing picked up, nervous and wanting. 

“Shh,” Roger soothed, “it’s okay.” His fingers trailed up, pressing over Chris’ packer, putting pressure on his dick. Chris jerked away, pulled out of his lazy arousal. 

Roger moved his hand back. “You want me to stop?” he asked, sounding concerned. 

“I-“ Chris stuttered, the blood his brain needed currently being sidelined by his dick. “I’m not-“

“You trying to tell me you have a plastic dick in there?” Roger asked. 

It wasn’t the most sensitive way he could have put it, but hey, he was honest. “How did you-“ Chris started. 

Roger laughed. “Small town, baby. Sorry. You can kick my ass to the curb now, just let me know.”

Chris paused. Why shouldn’t he stay? Was he going to shy away every time a man looked at him, for the rest of his life?

“You come here because of that? You think I’m some freak girl?” Chris challenged. 

“I don’t know about because of that,” Roger shrugged. “It’s kind of hot, yeah. I like men and women, though. Or, whatever, I know about there being more than that. Anyway, I’d have to be lacking some serious sense to think you’re a girl.” 

Chris nodded, and moved forward. “Alright,” he said simply. 

Roger smiled, the corner of his lip curling. “Alright?” he clarified. “You want it?” He stood and moved in close, fingers toying with Chris’ waistband, dirty and to the point. 

“Yeah,” Chris growled, palming Roger, “I fucking want it.” 

Roger laughed. “Ok, baby,” he said, lifting Chris easily onto the bar, grinding roughly. “I’m gonna give it to you.” He bit at Chris’ neck while his fingers forced their way into his pants, and Chris let out a loud, shocked moan when they moved boldly behind his packer, rubbing at the hard nub of his dick. 

Chris had never been this turned on in his life. He needed to come, and he was pretty sure he could do it in seconds if he shoved his hand down his pants. He’d completely forgotten about touching Roger back, who crowded against him now, the long line of his dick hard and obvious as he thrust between Chris’ legs. 

Chris was so caught up in how good he felt, whining and moaning, offering himself for the pleasure-pain of the bites, that he didn’t notice Roger rubbing at his wet lips until a thick finger penetrated him. 

“No,” he gasped, grabbing Roger’s hand. Roger removed his hand quickly, and Chris sighed in relief. “Not- there,” he said, flushing and looking away. 

“Ok, my bad,” Roger shrugged. “You still good?”

Chris nodded, hand moving to Roger’s back to pull his body flush. 

Roger’s fingers moved over his back, down his spine, and Chris relaxed into the touches, his lower back tight with arousal. The hand dipped beneath his boxers, and traced lightly over his asshole. 

“How about here?” Roger asked idly as Chris sucked in a shocked breath. The finger, still wet from his front hole, pressed lightly at his tight, puckered rim. 

“Oh, god,” Chris moaned, pressing back into it. He needed to come so badly, but he knew if he jerked himself off, he’d still be aching, empty-

“Yeah?” Roger prompted, low. 

“Yes,” Chris hissed, pressing into it. “But my dad, he’s upstairs, he can’t come down them, but I can’t-“

“Alright,” Roger said easily, scooping Chris’ smaller body into his arms, and Chris’ legs wrapped around him automatically, bringing the tip of Roger’s dick in contact with his aching front hole. If Roger noticed, he didn’t react. 

“My truck sound okay to you?” Roger said, walking, carrying his weight easily. 

Chris laughed, and Roger scrubbed his hair, affectionate. “Yeah, why the fuck not,” he answered, letting himself be carried all the way to the truck. 

Roger put Chris down on his back seat on his hands and knees. He pulled Chris’ pants down to bunch around his knees in the dark, lubed him up, rolled a condom on, and fucked him until he was wrung out and sore. 

*

Roger fucked him every night, sucked him, taught Chris how to blow him. Chris had never been so goddamn happy in his entire life. He felt good, at home in his body, not tight, strained, lacking. He was relaxed, well-fucked, and he couldn’t believe he’d gone years without getting dick from anyone. 

Roger had Chris’s pants off, his body bent over eagerly in the back of his truck, his legs spread wide and back arched in offering. Roger slapped his ass with a chuckle. 

“Open for business, huh?” He pressed a couple of fingers into Chris’s well-used hole, prepping him quickly while he stroked his dick. “Can’t get enough?” He grabbed his dick and pushed in while Chris moaned, scrabbling on the leather seat at the pressure moving up his rectum. Roger wasn’t exactly small, but Chris liked it rough, complained when Roger didn’t take him hard or fast enough. 

Roger bottomed out, his balls flush against Chris’ ass, then pulled back, his short, jabbing thrusts making humiliating wet smacking sounds in the small space. Chris groaned and relaxed his hole, accepting the thrusts, loving the humiliation of being bent over every night in the back seat. 

When Roger stilled and came, cussing, then pulled out and flipped Chris over bodily to suck his dick, Chris squirmed and moaned, enjoying every second of it. He came fast and hard, and Roger laid down to catch his breath, pulling Chris to his chest. 

After a couple of minutes, their pants still down, Chris squirmed, rubbing himself on Roger’s thigh. Roger cracked open an eye. 

“You know,” he said idly, tracing a finger over Chris’ messy, lubed asshole, “no matter how many times I fuck you, or suck you, or have you get yourself off,” he ran the finger past Chris’ front hole, and Chris shuddered hard. The finger moved to his cock, jerking him slowly. “It seems like you’re never satisfied. And that might just be ‘cause you’re a slut, which is nothing to be ashamed of,” Chris flushed at the slur, though it just made him wetter. 

Roger’s finger traced slowly, deliberately over his front hole, and Chris buried his face in Roger’s shoulder, shivering. He was so wet, so ready for him, he could take him so easily. He pressed down onto the finger, still hiding. 

“Good boy,” Roger soothed, rubbing gently, not penetrating him yet. “You got something you want to tell me?”

“I need it,” Chris said softly, shy. 

“Yeah,” Roger said easily, penetrating him in one smooth motion. “That’s what I thought." Roger groaned. "Damn boy, never had anyone this wet. You’re desperate, huh?” 

Chris gasped, and the finger hooked itself, pressing firmly at his sensitive front wall. 

“You need a dick in here?” Roger asked, pumping the finger steadily. 

“Oh god,” Chris flushed, pressing down. Another finger joined the first. 

“It’s ok, little slut,” Roger said, fucking him with his fingers. “You embarrassed, that you’re a man with a nice, wet hole for other men to fuck? You ashamed that you can't help it, that you’re so wet for my dick?”

“Fuck,” Chris moaned, clenching, shivering as he tried to come. 

Roger laughed. “Not yet, baby, or you’ll be all sore and hurting when I fuck you. I know you like that, but I’m not gonna do it for the first time you get a dick in you. You want it?”

“Yes, goddamn it,” Chris gritted, fucking himself on Roger’s fingers. “Fuck me already.” 

Roger laughed, then flipped Chris onto his back, fitting himself between his splayed legs. Missionary. Chris swallowed, and Roger rolled a condom on. Chris was aching so bad he could feel his heart in his cunt. 

“I think you get off on this,” Roger said, pressing the tip of his dick between Chris’ wet folds. “You like being on your back, seeing my big dick fucking into you like a woman?”

“Fuck you,” Chris growled. 

“Oh honey,” Roger replied, taking his dick in hand, “I think you got that backwards.” 

“You talk too mu-“ Chris gasped, whining loudly as the head of Roger’s dick pressed into him. 

“You’re such a fucking good boy,” Roger groaned, pressing steadily until the head popped in. He kept it there, moving in small, jerky movements, letting Chris adjust. It was a little sore, but Chris welcomed the pain. 

“Why don’t you show me how good I can be?” he challenged, tilting his hips up. 

Roger’s eyes were wide, dark. “You little shit,” he said, pressing in, “you’re fucking incredible, Jesus-“ Chris twisted his hips and whined as Roger bottomed out, then paused, his balls flush. 

Chris’s stomach turned a bit, aware of his position. His legs were splayed wide, another man’s dick deep inside his body; it forced open a part of him that he’d hidden in fear and shame, that for years he couldn't even think of without feeling sick. That he’d vehemently denied existed when people harrassed him, afraid they might hurt him. Afraid they might force him down, fuck him. 

“Hold me down,” he gritted. “Fuck me, hurt me.”

Roger paused, looking worried for the first time Chris’d ever seen. “Baby-“

“Don’t,” Chris growled, “it’s my body, and if I say I can handle it, I can fucking handle it.”

“Alright,” Roger said, grinding against his opening. “You want it hard? Want to fight back?” 

“Yeah,” Chris groaned. 

“If you don’t like it, if it hurts, you say stop, red, anything,” Roger ordered, looking at him seriously. “I’m not into hurting people that don’t like it, you got it?” 

Chris nodded. “Fuck me already,” he said, chin tilted in defiance. Roger pulled back and thrusted, wringing a moan from his throat. 

“You got it,” Roger growled, and grabbed Chris’s hands, pinning them above his head. “You think about this, huh?” He punctuated it with a rough thrust, hitting something deep inside him that made him moan loudly. He struggled, fighting Roger’s grasp. 

“You like that dick, boy?” Roger grunted. 

“Yeah,” Chris moaned, “fuck you, I like it.” 

“No denying that,” Roger smirked, picking up the pace, thrusting fast and hard. Each deep thrust was accompanied by Chris’ high-pitched, breathy moans as he gasped for air. 

“Bet you think about being bent over in alleys,” he grunted, “being whored out to a line of men, having them cum in you till you’re all dirty, so you can finally get what you need. One cock’s not enough for you, is it?” Chris whined, clenching hard. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Roger continued, “next time, I’ll round up my buddies, strip you out of all those layers you use to hide what you are, show them how wet you are, so you can't deny that you're made to take dick," Chris groaned, fingers digging into Roger's back.

"Fuck," Roger growled, "I'd spread you over the bar so they can fill up your holes. Watch you beg them to stop, let them keep going till you’re so sore you can’t stand after. And you’ll take it, all of it, cause you’re such a good boy,” his balls slapped against Chris’ cunt, heavy and full.

Chris looked into his eyes. “I would,” he said, straight faced, serious. “I’d take all of them. Bet I could. Call ‘em up.” He clenched around Roger’s cock, and Roger’s eyes went wide. He lost control of his rhythm, fucking into Chris roughly, then pressed in deep, growling as he came. 

“Damn,” Roger groaned, and reached up to pet Chris’s hair. “Boy, you are going to kill me. You ok?”

“Yeah,” Chris grunted, jerking himself. “Stay inside, wanna come around your dick.”

“Yeah, ok,” Roger said faintly. “Whatever you want.”

Chris came hard and long while Roger encouraged him, grinding steadily. He gasped for air through it, making high-pitched, breathy sounds they could probably hear the next town over, and didn’t give a flying fuck. When Roger pulled out, Chris felt lax, punch-drunk. 

“Hey, about your friends,” he giggled with the rush of endorphins, and Roger pulled him to his chest, draping a coat over top of him. Chris tapped his hard, muscled pecs. “Wasn’t kidding, sounds hot.”

Roger cursed and clutched him, kissing his hair. “I’m glad, honey. One thing at a time, ok?” 

Chris nodded. “Thanks for not telling me I didn’t know what I wanted, or some shit,” he slurred. 

“Wouldn’t presume to know that,” Roger said, “’S long as you’re ok.” 

Chris cuddled into him, sighing contentedly. “I’m good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://appalachianfireflies.tumblr.com) Ask questions, vent your feels. I'm here for you.


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